Marluxia's Regrets
by HoldingOnToMyHeart
Summary: Marluxia is defeated, and as darkness begins to swallow him up, The Lord of the castle reflects on his biggest regrets... mainly the ones concerning a certain blonde witch, whom he only ever wanted to love. Warning: dark-ish. Not graphic, but has direct mentions of sexual violence.


**Despite myself, I have really come to love this pairing. I love the darkness of it and yet, it can be so fluffy as well, depending on how you write it… Anyway this is my attempt. Enjoy! Reviews appreciated ^_^**

**[A/N] I own nothing. **

I'm fading.

Fading into darkness.

Within minutes I will be gone forever.

This isn't what I planned.

My plans were something else entirely.

But only now – as I have mere seconds left to live – do I realise my mistakes.

As I'm falling, fading, I see her face just beyond the doorway. It's the same face that I have observed for months, maybe even years (time has little to no meaning here in Castle Obvlivion).

Normally, the girl would have a neutral expression on her face, with just a hint of wistfulness about her. Her big blue orbs would always hold sparkles in them, as if there were stars trapped beneath her irises, although it had always been hard for me to tell whether the sparkles were the dawning of fresh tears, or the light of new ideas produced by her flawless imagination; it is hard to discern when you have no heart of your own.

Now however, the object of my affection's face displays a very different set of emotions: horror and fear. Such black feelings are a contrast to her pale, and angelic features, and seeing them there gives me a strange feeling inside my chest. As though some bag of fluid has burst, and it's toxic contents were leaking slowly throughout my bloodstream, down into my arms, dripping into my gut.

To start with, I hope that maybe – just maybe – she will try to save me. I hope that these emotions will drive her to help me now, I hope that she will realise that she fears losing me.

But then I look deeper into her blue eyes and I see a sort of relief, alongside her fear; of course. She doesn't fear _losing_ me. She just fears ME. She is going to let me die. The feeling in my chest intensifies, sending a pulse of pain throughout my body. I scream in agony.

_It's your own fault Marluxia. _Something whispers inside me. _Who can blame the young girl for fearing you, after all that you have done?_

And for the first time since I apparently lost my heart, something inside me broke, and I allowed the raw emotions to flood over me. I let out another cry, of emotional pain and regret.

I tried with her. I honestly did. She was only meant to be a puppet, a manipulator, another tool that I could use to achieve my goals.

But she turned out to be so much more. There was something different about her. For a nobody, she was pretty good at acting like a somebody. Her voice was light and feathery, and had a melody to rival Demyx's sitar songs. She would come to my flower gardens with genuine appreciation and caress my plants, enquiring as to their health and meaning. I thought that my flowers were the meaning of beauty, but when she was around, I much preferred to look at her. Even the most perfect of my petals and buds looked dull and withered in comparison.

Sometimes, it was almost as if she did have a heart... she displayed seemingly genuine emotions, which was strange given that she had no memories of herself before she lost it. I always assumed that she had learned her emotions off of us, but then again, I've never seen any of the organisation crying. Oh how I wished I could wrap my arms around her at times, and wipe the tears away, but I did not know how, so I never bothered making a fool of myself. Instead, I stood, and I watched.

I could have shouted at the other members for saying things that would make her cry, but again, there seemed no point at the time. I was often just as bad. I pride myself on many things, and not being a hypocrite was just one of them. It wasn't that I wanted to make the young beauty cry, far from it. But having no heart makes it very difficult to judge what sort of effect your words might have on a person before you say them.

Nobodies are not meant to exist, but it often felt as though she were the only exception, and I knew that if I were still a somebody I would love her, and she would be mine. I pondered this day and night. I would wander through my gardens and think of her, I would stare out of the window at night and compare the stars to her eyes. One of those nights, I saw a shooting star dance across the night, through Kingdom Hearts, and out the other side. That was when I decided to make a vow, a promise, that having no heart should not stop me. I would still be her lover.

There was just one problem: I didn't know how to go about this. What did I know of love, when I had no heart to guide me? I only had memories - memories of being a somebody - to go by. And as a somebody, I never fell in love.

I couldn't have turned to the other organisation members over matters concerning emotion - pah! Imagine it! Imagine the scorn of Larxene or Lexaeus, the false laughter of Vexen, and the childish advice of Axel. And Zexion... Well all I can say is that reading was never my thing. Or at least, such were my excuses at the time. I suppose you could just say I was too proud to admit anything to them.

Perhaps I shouldn't have been so proud. After all, it was this pride that caused me to make horrible mistakes when dealing with my love.

It was this pride that forced me to search my own memories for ideas, and go by the behaviour I had observed in others, who were "in love". This was my first mistake. The brain is a deceptive device you see.

I noted that in the past, couples I had known had made themselves comfortable in one another's homes. Castle Oblivion was my "home" now, I was its lord. So I gave her her very own room. I thought this would make her comfortable, and I thought that maybe she could make it homely. I even bought her roses: light pink for her gentleness and sweetness, white for her purity and innocence, yellow for her joy… but never red. I couldn't be that obvious. I thought she might appreciate the honour of having a room. After all, only other organisation members have rooms to themselves. Not that I ever gave them much chance to use them.

The girl was not allowed to leave her room. I stated that this was because she needed to do her work, but it was not only because of that.

You see, I remembered how men who have hearts were always protective of their women, and liked to watch over them. Perhaps my love interest would appreciate me more if I displayed similar behaviour. By keeping her confined in that room, by keeping watch over her myself and by having the others do the same, I thought I was showing a loving protectiveness. I thought I was showing her that I wanted to keep her safe.

Now I realise, I made her a prisoner. She must have felt like a slave, not like a subject of my love. This was my second mistake.

I vaguely remembered a thing called Valentines Day, where partners would shower one another with gifts galore, as if material things could buy affection. I was sure that this would work on my lady. So I always made certain it was me who delivered her new sketch pads, pencils and crayons. I occasionally bought her a new dress or a vase of flowers. Every time I did so, I would wait for five minutes for the appreciation, for the hug, for the display of affection or gratitude at the very least.

But there was nothing. She would always looked up at me with big round eyes, and whisper, "Thank you, Marluxia." And that would be it. Nothing else. The same sentence every time. Eventually I gave up, and only bought her new supplies when she ran out, when I needed to in order for her to do her job.

Maybe if I'd have stopped there, if I had given up, it would have been okay. By this point, she was not fearful of me. She did not wince when I walked into the room, or cower when I approached her. True, she may have shown slight distaste, but no more towards me than to the others.

But I wanted her. I wanted her to show the same affection back. So I searched and searched, files through memory upon memory, until I came up with my last idea. It was a very old and vague memory, harmless I thought, but it was this idea that caused the hateful discrimination. It betrayed me, gave me false information. It caused me to make my third and most catastrophic mistake.

This last, wretched memory, was to do with the idea of "making love". I remembered what this concept entailed and I remembered that a man does it to a woman when he loves her. It had been an awfully long time since I'd practiced anything like that, and I didn't remember the exact protocol or etiquette surrounding the act... But I remembered being told how it was the ultimate symbol of love.

So I made love to her, and not just once. It was an interesting experience. Pleasurable for me... But not for her.

I accept this now, as darkness closes in: her screams and squirms were not due to happiness or pleasure as I had previously convinced myself, but due to fear and a desperate desire to escape.

It was blindingly obvious all along but back then, I refused to see it. I told myself her behaviour was normal, she would come around to it eventually, and it would make her love me.

I told myself that by taking her in this way, every day, I was being loving to her. And because I knew nothing - of love or of making love - I believed myself.

Now I realise the truth. I'm a monster. More pain pours through me, and water begins to slide down my cheeks as I wail. Images of her exposed body - bruised and scratched from her struggles - flash through my mind and I silently will the darkness to engulf me faster. I cannot live with the idea of what I have done. I open my eyes, and look down at Sora, the one who has ended my life. His eyes are full of hatred, and he sneers at me. As far as he is concerned, I am getting all that I deserve. He's right.

I look back at her now. I see the same look in her eyes, although in contrast with the boy, her cheeks are also wet with tears. She hates me. Of course she hates me. Why wouldn't she? Why wouldn't anyone hate me?

Rapist. Oppressor. Imprisoner. That's what I have been.

I'm not even going to try and justify myself now, it's too late, I'm drowning into the darkness. Besides, the way they view it is right. I am evil. It's a good thing I am fading away I suppose, since I don't deserve a heart.

Yet… I wish I could have one last chance with her. To explain it. To set things right, before I fade away. Because I was only ever trying to show her love.

Please don't let me leave her...

I can't fade away...

I can't leave you...

I love you...

Naminé...

**Fin.**

**I hope you enjoyed it! Reviews appreciated. I may write this again, from Namine's perspective, so keep your eyes peeled for that if you liked this! **

**Happy New Year! **


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